So, I have brown hair now. Brown. That's brown.

On Thursday night, I used the Susan Lucci hair rinse that my mother sent me, as that's what she uses when she is between dyings. I tried the blonde alone first, but it didn't do any good, so I tried the brunette. I used it twice, and I thought it was more or less brown at the end, but when I looked at it in the morning, it was definitely an extremely peculiar pinkish-brown.

I went to work, thinking that there would be comment after comment, but there was nothing. And I was like, "Hey! Where are the comments!" If I get them, I don't want them, but believe you me, if I don't get noticed, I get pissed off.

The Raccoon and the girls in my department liked it, though.

"It looks good!"
"It looks weird!"
"Hey, the way that you usually have it looks much weirder."
"Yeah, but that's the way it's supposed to look, this way it looks as though I only had the guts to go a little bit weird!"

So I bought a light brown rinse and then used it last night. It's still slightly pink, but it looks more reddish-brown than pinkish-brown on the long part of my hair, the upper part is just plain brown.

I think that's the only colour my hair has never been up until now. It's been blonde and grey and black and purple and pink and auburn, but never plain brown. I feel like such an...ordinary person. And I don't much care for it.

It snowed yesterday. It snowed and snowed, and at 1.30p they told us that the office was being closed at 3.30p. Of course, by then the sun had come out and the snow had all melted, but everyone ran out, waving their arms around and yelling, "Too late! Too late! You can't take it back now!!"

I had to go to fight rehearsal at 7p, so I went to the movies for the first time since my Xmas vacation while I was waiting, About Schmidt, which was spectacular. I wept the whole way through, even during the funny bits--sad old men get me every time.

Jack Nicholson was so un-Jack Nicholson-like that it almost wasn't him at all. He was so dead, his eyes were so dead, he was barely recognizable. And Kathy Bates was wonderful, I'm going to be that character when I'm old, except without the white-trashiness. And that's what I loved about her portrayal, that she didn't play down to her, she didn't play her white trash even with all of the details like the time share and the hot tub and the water beds.

But boy, it was beautiful, so funny, so strong. And Dermot Mulroney was hilarious with his mullet and his balding head. My favourite line was when he said to his almost father-in-law, "Dad! How's it hangin'!"

Afterwards I went to That Man's apartment, and he looked at me as if I had two heads. He had forgotten that I was fight captain and needed to be there for the fight rehearsal, so when he canceled it because Matt couldn't be there, he didn't call me.

Didn't bother me none, really, otherwise I would have just gone home and sat there, this way I saw that great movie and got to go home early. Of course, this way, I have to be at rehearsal on Sunday at fucking 9a, but what can you do?

Today's horoscope:
Ask for the report on an event that you were too busy to attend. If you want to go off on an adventure of your own, there's no time like the present. Keep your investment small in case you need to pull out.

One year ago today:
Because you know what the difference between happiness and despair is, don't you? Towel racks and moving showers. You know, apparently. Not four crackers.

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Last Updated Sat 8 February 20:16:09 2003